


What We Live To Regret

by WriteUntilTheWordsMeanSomething



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Sorry Not Sorry, au of 206, but does he, wyatt dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteUntilTheWordsMeanSomething/pseuds/WriteUntilTheWordsMeanSomething
Summary: What if Wyatt died in that Rittenhouse mission?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> BLAME THE GOAT

They poured out of the Lifeboat, laughing in a way none of them had in months. The music was still ringing in Lucy’s ears, the thrum of it making her want to dance as they steadied them on themselves on the ground. Her joy was not shared by the waiting females who’s drawn faces sobered their smiles.  
She couldn’t understand Agent Christopher’s sombre expression. The tears in Jiya’s eyes had no explanation. The deafening silence despite the fact the Lifeboat was still cooling down was unnatural.   
“What happened?” Rufus asked. “What did we change? Chocodiles still exist right? We’re still the good guys?”   
“You may want to sit down.” Denise’s voice was rough, her hands shaking as she gestured t the waiting chairs. Quickly, Lucy scanned the room, waiting for Wyatt to appear. No one moved towards the chairs.  
Mason slumped onto the stairs they’d used to exit the Lifeboat. Rufus walked over to Jiya. Flynn walked away.   
“Flynn!” Agent Christopher barked.  
“I’ve already read the journal,” he snapped. “I think I’m excused from this discussion.”  
“Where’s Wyatt?” She whispered, feeling naked when she was the only standing without someone beside her. Surely he would’ve arrived by now to see how the mission went. To make sure Flynn kept his word. To see her despite how little she wanted to be reminded of the ring on his finger and the wife sharing his room.   
“There were some complications while you were away,” Denise began, looking nervously between Rufus and Lucy. “Wyatt was sent to a suspected Rittenhouse base. He was to retrieve whatever information he could and return. It was a standard operation.”  
“It was a suicide mission,” Jiya spat, her voice muffled by the tears now streaming off her cheeks. Rufus wrapped an arm around her, concern lining his forehead. “There was nothing standard about it.”  
“Jiya,” Agent Christopher warned as Lucy began to tremble.   
“I told you. I warned you.”  
“I trusted Wyatt. I thought he could do it. He did do it.”  
“And he died for it,” she shouted, tears dripping off her face. “For your mission. Because you refused to send in a team.” Lucy collapsed but no one noticed as Jiya roared at Agent Christopher. “So what if we got the intel? He’s dead.”  
“Wyatt’s dead?” Rufus echoed helplessly, eyes searching Jiya’s. He hadn’t started crying yet. “Wyatt? Our Wyatt? The guy who has literally survived the Alamo?”  
“I- Yes,” Denise sighed. “He was shot by Kanes. The doctors couldn’t save him.” Only the did Rufus look towards her, did Mason stand up and try to move towards her as she brought her knees to her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was able to cry, there were to many emotions festering inside of her until she was numb to the rest of Denise’s words.   
“Lucy,” whispered Rufus, trying to help her stand. “Lucy say something.”  
“Dead,” she looked to Denise, and then to the doorway, the hallways, waiting to see Wyatt walking through them. Waiting to hear his voice as he asked if the mission went again. Just waiting for this all to be a lie. 

It wasn’t. 

“He asked us to give you these,” Agent Christopher said softly, finding Lucy standing in her room, staring at the wall opposite her. She turned so Denise could place his Dog Tags in her hand. “And tell you that he was sorry. He – He said he never wanted to die without you knowing that he loved you.” Her voice wavered on uncertainty as Lucy turned again to face the wall.   
“Did he say anything else?”  
“He didn’t get the chance.” She couldn’t make the sentence any less blunt, no matter how quiet a voice she used.  
“Where is he?”  
Jessica had left earlier, her wedding ring and his sitting on top of his stealth uniform. Rufus stood up, eyes red, muttering something about her needing time alone. When he left, he shut the door and she was utterly alone with Wyatt’s body. A sheet was draped over him, his eyes were shut, hands hidden from view. No blood stained his skin.   
Eventually, she sat on the chair beside him, taking one of his hands from underneath the blanket and holding it. Hands that had once traced her body. That had caused sparks to ignite in her. That had given her comfort and solace. That had held her. Loved her. Known her more than she’d ever allowed another man’s hands to know her. She tried not to focus on the warmth, missing from his skin.  
“So, the mission went well. Flynn managed to keep us alive. Mason was of more use than I was,” she gave one, short laugh. “You would’ve loved it. All the cars. And the music… I think you would’ve liked that too. But you definitely would’ve loved the cars. I couldn’t tell you what types they were, or even the colour of most of them. But you always seem to like cars and… and…” she trailed off, wishing he’d just open his eyes and ask her a question. Anything. “Please Wyatt?” She whimpered. “For me,” she choked on her tears, “could you just wake up. Just open your eyes.” Nothing happened. Why should it? Why should she even hope all the begging in the world would ever allow her the chance to watch him open his eyes again. To hear his voice. Breathe in his scent. Know the feel of his fingers lacing together with hers. She brushed some hair from his forehead, hand lingering on his cheek the way it had in Hollywood, when all the possibilities of the world were open for exploration.   
Tears blurred her vision. Pain wracked her body and left her heart in sharp shards that cut her open. “Please just wake up,” she sobbed. “Please. I don’t care if you spend every day of forever with Jessica. Or we can never be what we could’ve. I don’t care Wyatt. Please just open your eyes. Please.” She ran her hand across his cheek again. “We can’t do this without you. You’re our soldier. Who’s going to protect us?” He was cold. Motionless. Dead. A wail ripped out of her as she bowed her head, holding his lifeless hand to her forehead. “Please. Please. Please.” She kept repeating it like a mantra until Jiya came into the room and wrapped her in her arms, hushing her. “He can’t be dead. He’s not meant to die.” She sobbed, still clutching his hand. “He’s meant to live. Out of all of us – he’s not meant to be the one to die.”  
“I know,” Jiya murmured through her own tears and grief. “I know.”

The funeral happened quickly and quietly. Agent Christopher managed to get them to the church, but they weren’t allowed go inside. Instead, she got to watch six men she’d never met lift his coffin onto their shoulders. They held their heads high, medals gleaming on their perfectly groomed uniforms.   
She could see Jessica, layered in black. Watched everyone greet her. Hug her. Offer her comfort despite the lack of tears on her cheeks. She hadn’t even brought any of Wyatt’s stuff with her.   
“It’s going to be okay,” Rufus promised, an arm around both Jiya and herself. “Maybe Flynn won’t try and kill us on these missions.” Lucy couldn’t speak. She’d hardly said a word since Wyatt had died. She didn’t know what to say.   
“I’m sick of these missions,” she eventually muttered when the coffin remerged from the church, the crowd of mourners following. A sea of black and yet not one of them knew that the Wyatt they mourned was not the Wyatt they knew. They didn’t know any of the changes he’d undergone since their first trip to the Hindenburg. They couldn’t begin to comprehend how he’d grown. How he’d managed to let go of his past and appreciate his future. Their Wyatt was not her Wyatt because their Wyatt existed in a different world.

Later, they walked to the grave, arms interlinked.  
“Well Wyatt,” Rufus said, voice shaking. “Thank you – for everything. Saving our asses all those times. Making sure I didn’t eat the wrong berries, teaching me how to be a badass. I don’t think we would’ve ever got this far without you.”   
“Thank you, for not judging me,” Jiya whispered. “Checking up on me in the bunker, and just-just being there I guess.” They looked at her, Rufus silently asking if she wanted to say her words in private. She nodded her head and they left her, wandering a few feet away and waiting.   
“I know we didn’t start on the best of terms, or end on them. But for all the times in between I’m thankful,” she began. “You saved me just as much as I saved you Wyatt and I will never regret any of it. Not the fights. Or the highs and lows. Not Hollywood or everything that happened after it.” She clutched at the Dog Tags that now rested around her neck like her locket always did. “I miss you like hell.” She didn’t know what to say after that, so she just stood in silence, letting the wind blow her hair in every direction. “I love you too, by the way,” she looked to the sky, “if you can hear me. I love you Wyatt Logan, and we picked a bad time to admit to that.”

Every mission after that never distracted her enough from the pain in her heart. The feeling that something – someone – was always missing. No matter how many of her historical idols she met, or historical events she saved, she was always in mourning. She tried – she tried so hard not to let the team know. But Rufus never stopped having excuses to be around her. Jiya was always talking to her. Flynn offered her his favourite whisky. 

And when they left the bunker, and their missions became about restoring the past, she was still lonely no matter how much she was surrounded. Rufus and Jiya would invite her to dinners and games nights that she eventually declined because Wyatt should’ve been there with her. Flynn gave her her journal again, and she read it all. And when she didn’t mention getting Wyatt back she burned it.   
When missions grew dangerous, and the past refused to be fixed, she flung herself into danger. It didn’t matter if she lived or died because she’d nothing to live for. And even if there was nothing waiting for her when she died. Even if there was no heaven or hell to find Wyatt in, it would be better than the pain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, because I don't feel like being that heartless, here's a happy ending.

“Lucy,” Agent Christopher said as they docked the lifeboat. Five years since Wyatt had died and they were finally back at Mason Industries. It had been their last mission, restore the history of the Hindenburg so that it matched the original timeline.   
“Amy?”  
“Your sister is alive and well,” she smiled, passing her a file.  
“What’s this?”  
“Clearance for one final mission,” she explained as Rufus and Jiya reached them.  
“I thought you said the Hindenburg would be the final one,” Jiya groaned. “I am not wearing another corset, Denise.”  
“This one’s a little more personal,” she whispered as Lucy flicked open the file and saw the familiar face of Wyatt Logan. Her heart ached. In every timeline they returned to, he was dead. Sometimes he’d died in the Alamo. Once he had burned to death in Mason Industries. But it was always the same. Wyatt Logan; dead. Sometimes as they restored the past she’d catch glimpses of him with her and Rufus. She could never reach out to him. Never talk to him. She always stayed in the shadows, let Rufus or Jiya interrupt where necessary. “The lifeboat will be ready in four hours,” Agent Christopher said and walked away.

“You go first,” Lucy whispered as the lifeboat landed once more. “I need a moment.” A moment to regain her composure in case it hadn’t worked. And gather her thoughts in case it had.   
They didn’t say a word when they exited the lifeboat and she didn’t hear Wyatt’s voice. She waited, longer than necessary before stumbling out of the time machine for what was undoubtedly the last time, and making her way down the steps. Still no sound of his voice. No trace of him. She kept her eyes trained on the ground in case the tears building in her eyes were noticed.  
“Lucy,” Rufus called. She looked up, already applying a brave face until her pace faltered. Wyatt was waiting, five years older and with more stubble on his face. An easy smile rested on well-rested features. He still wore the same plaid shirt and blue jeans combination and she had never loved the sight of it more. 

Her stomach dropped when she saw the silver wedding band on his finger. 

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Wyatt laughed, walking towards her and helping her off the final step. His skin was warm. His fingers laced with hers. “Luce?” She hadn’t heard that variation of her name since 1941 and she couldn’t contain her sobs, launching herself into his arms regardless of if he was still married to Jessica or not. “Luce?” He murmured, holding her tight. “Guys, what happened?”  
“You’ve been dead for five years,” Jiya said, the room falling silent as Lucy sobbed into his shoulder, his scent drowning her.  
“No, I haven’t,” he said quickly. “I couldn’t have – we only got married three weeks ago how have I been dead for five years?”

Wyatt brought them to their home, somewhere in the suburbs that was seemingly only twenty minutes away from Rufus and Jiya. Books were littered everywhere, a mixture of her's and his. They had were only moving in, he explained as she wandered through the hallway and into the kitchen.  
“If you want to stay somewhere else I understand,” he said, turning on the oven and putting a pizza into it. “Five years?” He looked at her, the tears still threatening to form in her eyes. They’d debriefed him about everything. “I’m so sorry Lucy,” he whispered, walking towards her and wrapping her in his arms again like he’d been doing since they left the lifeboat. She collapsed into his embrace, holding him tight. “Should I cancel the honeymoon until – until we figure out what we’re going to do now?”  
“Honeymoon?” She sniffled, listening to him pause before speaking again.  
“You didn’t want to go straight after the wedding, and the tickets were cheaper during winter anyway so we have a honeymoon in a month's time.”  
“Where are we going?”  
“Europe,” he laughed. “You said I could organise every detail of the wedding if I wanted to, but you got to pick the honeymoon. You couldn’t decide which country you wanted to go to and sorta picked twelve of them.”  
“And you went along with it?”  
“I don’t know how things were in the old timeline Lucy, but when you say jump I say how high.” She laughed, leaning away to look at his face once more. There was more light and joy in his features. More hope.  
“I love you,” she breathed, running her hands through his hair. “More than anything. More than – than everything Wyatt, I love you.” He smiled.  
“Those were your wedding vows, just so you know. You tried to say something poetic and gave up and went with that.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “So we don’t cancel the honeymoon?”  
“No,” she smiled. “Although, if we could get remarried when we’re over there so I have some memories for myself that would be nice.” He laughed and the pieces of her heart that had once been unfixable stitched themselves back together.   
“Anything for you, babydoll.”  
“Right answer, sweetheart.” And then, for the first time in five years, she kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, there's another part to come


End file.
